


No Second Troy

by Morgan (morgan32)



Series: Journey's End [2]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Crossover, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-15
Updated: 2009-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hercules and an elderly Iolaus search for Iolaus' runaway daughter. Their search brings them to a city at war, and leads Hercules to a confrontation with Hera and a decision that will change his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rumours of War

**Author's Note:**

> No Second Troy was inspired by a conversation about what the last ever episode might be like. This is my version, written long before the series was cancelled. Any resemblance to actual canon is coincidental.
> 
> "Why, what could she have done being what she is?   
> Was there another Troy for her to burn?"
> 
> WB Yeats, No Second Troy

Gabrielle looked into her husband's sad eyes, seeking a sign - any sign - that would warn her to chose a different tale. The crowd in the tavern was waiting expectantly. Gabrielle's was a familiar face to many of them: she and her family lived but a few miles away and she frequently treated the tavern to her stories. The few men and women in the tavern who didn't know Gabrielle would still recognise her as a bard. She had promised them a new story tonight.

Iolaus met her gaze resolutely. _Go ahead, Gabrielle. The story has to be told._

She read the message in his eyes and nodded slightly. Moving slowly, she took her place at the front of the crowd. How many times had she done this? Throughout the years she had travelled with Xena, she had relished her role as bard, enjoyed nothing more than standing up to tell yet another tale of Xena's heroism.

Tonight it was different.

Her tale that night was a song of mourning. Mourning for someone Gabrielle loved, the last casualty of a war between gods and men.

People die in war. Gabrielle had always known it. She had seen it, more times than she ever wanted to, travelling with Xena. But none of those deaths had touched her as this one did. Rumours of war in Argolis were only now beginning to reach Gabrielle's corner of the world. Her tale would be the first these people would hear of that great battle, and her audience knew it and was eager.

The story had to be told. Gabrielle took a deep breath and began to speak.

***

It had begun, at least for Gabrielle, almost three weeks before. It was seventeen years since she had married Iolaus, relinquishing her Amazon right of caste in favour of a more conventional life. She had never regretted the decision, not even when Xena's regular visits to their farmstead made her sick with wanderlust for the old days.

Gabrielle had three children to show for her marriage. The eldest, her daughter, Leipephile was a petite sixteen year old, with a mass of blonde curls and flashing blue eyes. She could be beautiful when she scrubbed up and made an effort, but she rarely did. Leipephile was a born Amazon, and had spent just enough of her childhood among warrior women to absorb their ways very young. Her greatest ambition was to be a warrior like her father, or her "aunt" Xena.

Gabrielle's two sons were less trouble. Particularly since neither of them was at home. The elder of the two boys was away at school in the east, a school where both Iolaus and Hercules had spent part of their boyhood. The younger had been much more interested in making weapons than in learning to use them; young Telemon was living in Athens for a year, beginning to learn the trade which so fascinated him.

Gabrielle was leaning against the doorpost, watching Leipephile practising with her staff, when Iolaus once again made a sound of impatience, glancing up at the westering sun.

"Relax, Iolaus. He'll be here," Gabrielle told him, moving to her husband's side. "What happened to that old hunters' trick of patience?"

He smiled up at her. "I can't help it. It's been such a long..."

"You know," Gabrielle said, deliberately casual, "those roof-tiles still need fixing..."

Iolaus turned to his wife with a pained expression. "Aren't you afraid I'll fall?"

"Iolaus, you're driving me nuts with your fidgeting! At least you can see the road from the roof." She took both his hands and dragged him to his feet. "Now, go!"

"Henpecked, that's what I am," he complained. He was smiling, though, his hands still within hers. He stepped closer and kissed her, then turned away to get the ladder out of the barn.

***

Hercules reached the farm about an hour later. Iolaus was the first to see him as he appeared on the road: the roof, as Gabrielle had pointed out, offered a good view. But he was still only halfway down the ladder when Gabrielle, having heard Iolaus' shout of greeting, emerged from the house to welcome their visitor.

"I can't tell you how good it is to see you both again," Hercules told her.

Gabrielle felt her feet leave the ground as the big demi-god lifted her in his powerful arms. She laughed and hugged him back briefly.

He whispered, "Remind me I have a story for you, later," as he set her down and turned to Iolaus. The years had been kind to Hercules. In seventeen years he had hardly aged at all. Seeing him beside Iolaus made her husband seem older than he was. Gabrielle didn't care. From her point of view, advancing age was an achievement. How many times in their younger days had she and Iolaus almost lost their lives? Iolaus had actually died, more than once. Getting old seemed a wonderful thing beside that.

The two old friends greeted each other warmly, both men trying to talk at once. Gabrielle's sharp eyes saw blood on the inside of Hercules' arm as they shook hands.

"Hercules, are you hurt?" Gabrielle interrupted their reunion sharply.

He glanced at the wound as if he'd only just noticed it. "It's nothing," he said dismissively. "Just a family argument."

"Hera again?" Iolaus asked.

"No. Ares." Hercules allowed Gabrielle to take a closer look at his wound. It was a recent injury: a deep cut just below his elbow, still bleeding slightly.

"I'll see what I can do for that," she told him. Gabrielle disappeared into the house for her medical bundle.

"What happened?" Iolaus asked while she was gone.

Hercules shrugged, following Iolaus to the bench outside the front door. "I wish I knew. I was attacked on the road about two miles from here. One of them turned out to be quite talkative, with the right encouragement, so I know their orders were from Ares, but he didn't know why. It's not like Ares to throw away men like that...and I don't remember offending him recently."

"So what do you think is going on?" Iolaus asked. The old excitement was back in his blue eyes at the news of adventure.

"The only thing I can think of," Hercules said, pulling the gauntlet from his wrist, "is that he's trying to slow me down." He held his arm out to Gabrielle as she sat down beside him, bandages and ointment in her hands. He continued, "I wish I could stay longer, Iolaus, but I'm going to have to leave in the morning. I'm afraid my journey can't wait."

"What is it this time?" Iolaus smiled. "Ruthless warlords? Maiden in distress? Fire-breathing monster?"

"That cut is deep," Gabrielle told Hercules before he could answer Iolaus. "Looks like the muscle has torn. I ought to stitch it." She looked uncertain: it wasn't a job she enjoyed doing.

Hercules seemed to read her thoughts. "You worry too much, Gabrielle. Just bind it tight." He smiled. "I heal fast - trust me."

"Being half god is worth something then," she replied lightly, doing as he suggested with some relief. "But you didn't answer the question. Are you going to tell us where you're going?"

Unexpectedly, Hercules' face fell, his relaxed smile replaced by a frown. He was silent for a moment, then, "Iphicles is dead," he announced flatly. "I've spent the past week in Corinth with him. He was ill for a long time..."

"Herc, I'm sorry." Hercules and his mortal brother had never been close, but even so Iolaus knew that his death had to hurt.

Hercules shook his head briefly. "I've done my mourning, Iolaus. The point is, Iphicles made a request of me just before he died. I have to honour that."

"Of course you do."

"His daughter, Ganeda is in Mycenae. There's a nasty war brewing in the area: I have to get her back to Corinth before she's trapped there. And I have to tell her that her father is dead."

***

"No," Hercules said firmly.

Leipephile's eager smile disappeared. "Why not?" she demanded, tossing her blonde curls in annoyance. She had been looking forward to Hercules' visit for weeks, determined - now that she was old enough - to prove her warrior skills against the son of Zeus. And he was refusing to fight her!

"You might as well, Herc," Iolaus told him. "It will do my feisty daughter good to be beaten." He smiled affectionately at the eager young girl, then turned back to his friend. "Xena taught her, Hercules: she knows what she's doing. Leipe's a match for me, these days. Although..." he rubbed his arm unconsciously, "...I'm not as quick as I used to be."

"That arm still bother you?" Hercules asked him, a touch concerned. He was referring to an old injury. Iolaus had broken his arm so badly he might have lost it, if not for Xena's decisive treatment. Gabrielle had nursed him through that injury, but the wound had taken its toll. To accept that he would never fully recover had been very difficult for Iolaus. Eventually, convinced he would be more a liability than a help to his friend, he had told Hercules that they wouldn't be able to travel together any longer. That was when he had asked Gabrielle to be his wife.

The memory of that time was on both men's minds as Iolaus turned aside Hercules' concern with a joke. "Go ahead and spar with her, Herc," he added, with a nod in Leipephile's direction. "She won't shut up until you do. I can at least trust you not to hurt her."

"Alright." Hercules gave in, accepting a staff from the grinning sixteen year old. He walked a few paces to a clear space and swung the staff a few times to get the feel of its weight and balance. Then he turned to face her.

It was fun, at first. They circled each other slowly, each testing the other's strength and speed. Hercules held himself back deliberately, not yet sure of the girl's skill, and determined not to risk hurting her. Their first few clashes were games. At some point, however, Leipephile stopped playing. Her staff swept low toward his legs; rather than block he leapt over it, countering with a strike toward her head. She ducked, avoiding his blow easily and moved toward him, her staff striking down.

Hercules heard Xena's ululating warcry coming from Leipephile's throat as she somersaulted over his head. He just barely blocked her next blow and spun to meet her attack. She had a lot of strength for her age, and now he could see Xena's training in her style. Hercules met the girl's eyes briefly over their clashing staffs; he saw in them determination and exhilaration, but no battle rage: she was in complete control.

He began to admire her skill.

They fought on. She had stamina as well as strength. Hercules noted she tended to attack on his left, and thought it a weakness...until he realised she was forcing him to favour his wounded arm. Oh, she was Xena's pupil, all right. Had she been an enemy, Hercules could have killed her easily. But knowing he couldn't harm her made it a more even match. Eventually, it was Hercules' superior strength that sent the staff flying from Leipephile's hands, and only his advantage of height that allowed him to catch the staff as it came down.

They faced each other, demi-god and would-be warrior, neither one speaking. Hercules threw the staff back to the girl; she caught it deftly in her left hand. He offered her his hand and she took it, warrior to warrior.

A big smile spread across her face as she realised the respect that gesture signified. "Well, uncle Hercules?" Leipephile said, a challenge in her voice. "Am I good enough?"

"Good enough for what?"

"To travel with you. As my father did."

He should have seen that coming. Hercules stared at her for a moment. "Leipephile...forget it." He turned away from her and walked back to join Iolaus.

She followed. "And why not? I almost beat you didn't I?"

"I wouldn't have given you the chance if I knew you had this in mind."

Leipephile rounded on him, blue eyes flashing. "I'm the daughter of an Amazon and a warrior. The staff's not my only weapon: Xena taught me sword. I can shoot a bow. I can even throw a chakram. I'm good, Hercules."

"You're also sixteen. And I'm not going to be the one who gets you killed." Hercules could see he wasn't getting through. "Leipephile, having the skill to kill isn't the same thing as being able to do it. You should listen to your mother, as well as Xena."

***

Iolaus watched his daughter's back as she stalked away, her head held proudly high.

"Thanks, Herc."

Hercules smiled at him uncertainly. "Are you sure you mean that?"

"Oh, yeah. Leipe tried that on Xena as well. She wanted to ride with her army. I don't want to see her on the road just yet, but I've got to tell you, one day she'll stop taking no for an answer."

"Iolaus, you can't want her to travel with me."

"Of course I don't! But I'd rather she was with you than on her own or with Xena's army. When Leipe decides she's ready to leave, I doubt I'll be able to stop her."

Hercules laughed suddenly, mentally comparing the fiery Leipephile with his own, lost, daughter. "How did you manage to raise such a handful?" he asked his friend.

Iolaus laughed with him, but then he became serious. "Hercules, I know she's a handful, but I wouldn't have her any other way." His eyes became distant, remembering. "When you raised a family, Herc, all you had to worry about was other people in trouble. No warlord would be dumb enough to attack the town where everyone knew you were living. We don't have that protection, here."

Hercules was instantly worried. "Is there trouble here, Iolaus?"

"Wars and rumours of wars, just like the rest of the world. If there was ever real trouble... Don't look so worried, Herc! I can still fight, and so can Gabrielle, if necessary."

"And you'd be too proud to ask for my help."

Iolaus shook his head firmly. "No I wouldn't. Not for my family's sake. Although Gabrielle would probably send for Xena before I got the chance. I'm just saying I'm glad Leipephile can take care of herself, that's all." He grinned at his friend. "She'll be a match for you, one day."

Hercules groaned. "That's all I need."

***

Inside, the farmhouse was a warm and welcoming place. The whitewashed walls reflected the light of dozens of candles, and of the big hearth-fire. The scent of beeswax mixed with freshly baked bread, and the flowers around the windows...it reminded Hercules very much of his mother's home.

Gabrielle was a fine cook, too. He really wished he could stay longer. He wished he could visit them more often. It was over a year since his last visit...every time he planned to take the trip to Athens, something always seemed to come up, someone else who needed his help.

After they had eaten - Iolaus and Hercules deep in conversation, Leipephile in stony silence, having been scolded for her display that afternoon - they sat comfortably around the fireplace, Gabrielle happy to leave the inevitable dirty dishes until the next day.

"You said you had a story to tell me," Gabrielle reminded Hercules, her eagerness barely concealed.

Gabrielle had become one of the greatest bards in Athens in recent years. Most of her tales, even now, were about Xena and her great deeds, but she collected stories from anywhere. The more traditional tales of heroes long dead she told with her own unique flair: she wanted her audiences not only to enjoy each tale but also to find meaning in them for themselves. New material was always welcome. The offer of a story from Hercules himself was rare: he was not one to boast about his adventures and in the past she had usually dragged the details from Iolaus instead.

Hercules leaned back in his chair, smiling at her little-girl eagerness. "That's right. It happened a while ago, but I overheard someone telling the story while I was in Corinth, and it seems they've missed some of the more important details."

"Well, every bard has their own way..."

"I'm talking about the truth, Gabrielle. There are enough stories out there about me, without my taking credit for something I didn't do. D'you want my version, or not?"

As if she would refuse! Gabrielle smiled up at him almost flirtatiously, entwining her hand with Iolaus' as she did so. "Go on. I'm listening."

"It started at a temple of healing just outside Sparta. They have a chalice there that's supposed to heal anyone who drinks from it...do you know the story?"

Gabrielle nodded. "It's said to be a gift from Demeter, the earth goddess."

"That's the one. There's a long running hostility between Sparta and Elea...they're not actually at war, but there are raids between the two cities, that sort of thing. During one of those raids, the temple was attacked. Their sacred chalice was stolen and their High Priestess killed. One man from the temple - the Warder, Cletus - pledged to find the chalice and bring it back.

"He succeeded, apparently, and became a real hero, at least to the temple. But after the chalice was returned, it seemed to have lost its healing powers. In fact, people were dying: one or two died instantly when they drank from the chalice, others died later, always within days. That's where I came in. I was in the area, and one of the temple acolytes came to ask for my help." Hercules smiled ironically. "She was under the impression that I know the ways of the gods and could figure out what had happened."

Hercules paused, just long enough for Iolaus to comment. "Seems obvious enough to me. If the cup is lethal, stop using the cup. You'd think they'd be able to figure that out without you."

"You're not far wrong," Hercules told him. "And if that was all there was to it they wouldn't have needed me. But as it happened..."

Hercules explained that those in charge of the temple, the Warder and the new High Priestess, weren't happy that he'd become involved: they had decided - on what evidence they never said - that the chalice would still heal 'the worthy', whatever that meant. And they considered it sacrilege for the chalice to be seen by anyone outside of their healing rituals, and the son of Zeus was no exception. Had they simply chosen to abandon the chalice, Hercules might have left them to it, but it was clear to him that they would continue to use it, even knowing it could kill.

If a healing was the only way to see the chalice, then Hercules would play along. The temple had a reputation of never turning anyone away, and any kind of sickness or wound could be admitted to their healing. So Hercules returned to the temple with a minor injury, to ask for "help".

"But wasn't that dangerous?" Gabrielle asked him, shocked. "I mean, that chalice could have killed you, couldn't it?"

"I suppose it could have done. I wasn't planning to drink from it. I just needed to get close enough to see it. As it happened, I got closer than that. The chalice is passed around during the ritual: those who need to, drink, but everyone holds it. The moment I touched it...I saw this image, just for an instant. Like looking into the sky and seeing Hera. But it wasn't Hera I saw. Just a face that somehow should have been familiar, but wasn't. One thing I was certain of: that somehow the gods were involved in whatever was happening."

Hercules had forced his way in to see the High Priestess after that. Tired of being blocked when he used the polite approach, he had been less than gentle in finding his way to her. He had found a very young woman, new to her power, not yet sure of herself or her leadership, relying too heavily on the advice of others. Eventually, the true story was revealed: the temple's chalice wasn't _stolen_ in the first place, it had been destroyed in the raid. With the Priestess dead, Cletus had acted alone, believing he was serving the best interests of the temple. Telling everyone that he was searching for the "stolen" chalice, he had in fact stolen one himself...Hebe's chalice of eternal youth.

"...Keeping his own temple rich on the offerings of desperate pilgrims," commented Iolaus. "And, I'd guess, himself as well."

"Good guess," Hercules answered. "The priestess hadn't known: she was shocked by his confession. I told her what I thought had happened: Hebe had done what any goddess would do: reversed the power of her stolen chalice so that instead of bestowing youth, anyone who tried to use it aged...and died. Since it was useless to them, the Priestess let me take the chalice to return it to Hebe's shrine."

That wasn't the end of the story. Hercules had returned the chalice to its rightful place, and in doing so had confronted the goddess with the results of her actions. "I was pretty sure she wouldn't care, the gods never do. All those pointless deaths made me angry enough to try and make her see what she'd done. But I wasn't prepared for Hebe's reaction.

"When she heard how many innocent people had died, she was devastated. She had acted to protect her chalice, nothing more. She never intended so many people to die; she just hadn't thought it through. Hebe made me take her to the temple. She found all the people who had died, and restored and healed each one of them. She even left Cletus alone, on condition that he stand trial for the theft. I can't tell you how wonderful it was...she brought so much joy to those people..."

Hercules leaned forward, holding Gabrielle's gaze. "I think people should hear the true story. Hebe deserves her compassion, and her mercy to be known. That's why I'm giving the story to a bard I trust."

"Of course," Gabrielle said, her voice soft. "Can I ask you a few questions...get the details straight?" Her eyes were slightly narrow with speculation... Mercy and compassion: both were qualities guaranteed to capture Hercules' heart.

Gabrielle questioned Hercules for nearly an hour before she was happy that she'd got the full picture. It was a great story...all the elements were there: a mystery to be solved, lots of action, and a happy ending that wasn't too predictable. She was going to enjoy telling this one.

"It sounds like Hebe means a lot to you," Iolaus had commented, at one point. Like Gabrielle, he had noticed the particular warmth with which Hercules spoke of the goddess.

"She does," Hercules agreed. "Hebe's a goddess, but she's younger than I am. Immortality hasn't jaded her yet. She has a great deal of love in her heart. I enjoyed getting to know her...and it's great to have a sister I won't be fighting every time we meet."

***

The strident crow of a cockerel shattered the silence of the farm. As Helios' burning chariot began its journey across the sky, two figures emerged from the farmhouse. The shorter of the two men was walking slightly ahead of the other. Some distance from the house, they stopped and faced each other.

The smaller man spoke quietly to his companion; the tall man replied with a chuckle. The two men exchanged a warrior's handshake and, after a few more words, they parted.

Iolaus didn't watch his friend go, but walked slowly back to the farmhouse, wishing, as he did every time, that he could go with Hercules. His regret would pass - it always did - but in the moment they said farewell Iolaus would have given anything, his life, his very soul, to be leaving with his best friend. They'd been through a lot together...and the gods knew they'd had fun doing it!

It was with these thoughts still spinning through his head that Iolaus returned to Gabrielle. He sat beside her on their bed and she, understanding him as always (two people who shared the same soul, she called them), reached for him silently, gentle fingers caressing his face, his shoulders, the amulet he wore around his neck. Iolaus returned her touch, taking her into his arms.

***

Always, when he left Iolaus' farm, Hercules' thoughts turned to his own family. Iolaus and Gabrielle had created a home together, filled with love and warmth...a place Hercules enjoyed visiting. He had watched their kids grow up, and that had been painful as well as wonderful, their happiness a constant reminder that Hera had denied him his own family.

It seemed he was fated to live alone. Any attempt he made to find love - at least that kind of love - always seemed to end in tragedy. By this stage of his life Hercules was beginning to wonder if that wasn't a good thing.

For seventeen years he had watched Iolaus and Gabrielle as they got older...while he seemed to stay eternally young. Half immortal. It was hard, having to realise that he would likely outlive both of them...everyone he loved. He wasn't sure he could have lived with that knowledge beside Deianeira. Losing her had been terrible...to lose her bit by bit with the passing years would have been constant agony.

He had wanted to live forever, once. Now it seemed to him a curse...something his old friend Chiron had warned him about years ago. Hercules had to believe he could die. Because the family he needed so much, and missed so much was still waiting for him. On the other side.

***

It was nearly an hour later that Gabrielle broke into her husband's brooding thoughts, not with jokes or stories, but with chilling news.

"Iolaus, Leipephile is gone."

"Gone? What do you mean, she's gone?"

"I mean, she's not here." Gabrielle's face was white. "I can't find her anywhere, and her weapons are missing. I think she's gone after Hercules."

He leapt to his feet. "She mustn't! Gods, Gabrielle, she's not that crazy, is she?" _Hercules is walking straight into a war..._ Iolaus' heart went cold at the thought of the danger his daughter could be putting herself in.

Gabrielle winced. "She's older than I was when I ran away to join up with Xena. And she's grown up on that story."

"Then I've got to go after them."

"Iolaus..." she began to object.

How could he explain without making her even more afraid? Gabrielle had been through an awful lot when she travelled with Xena. She had seen wars and fought and almost died more than once. But Iolaus knew something Gabrielle did not; the thing that made his heart almost stop with fear for Leipephile. Hercules had confided in him late the previous evening:

"I don't like the sound of this war, Iolaus. If it weren't for Ganeda, if it wasn't my brother's last request, I wouldn't be going near it. This has flared up too quickly, in an area that's been peaceful for decades. It stinks of Ares' work."

Leipephile couldn't have chosen a worse time to try and prove herself a warrior.


	2. Mycaene

Iolaus rode after Hercules, reasoning that on foot he'd have no chance of catching up with his half-god friend. If Hercules was in a hurry, he might have trouble catching him on horseback. But, by the gods, it felt good to be back on the road. His sword hung by his side; the weight a familiar old friend. He carried a bow slung across his back, and a quiver of arrows strapped to the saddle. The old excitement was back in his heart, alongside his worry.

It was evening when he finally caught up with Hercules, who was camped beside the river. He had obviously been there for some time: he had a good fire going, and some fish baking close to the flames. When he heard the horse approach, he leapt to his feet, obviously expecting trouble.

"Iolaus?" Concern was written all over his face as he recognised his friend. "What is it? Has something happened?"

Iolaus slid down from the saddle gratefully. "Herc, Leipephile is gone. Gabrielle thinks she left to follow you."

A few minutes later Hercules had the full story. He sat down beside the fire and checked on his fish supper. Then he looked up at Iolaus. "So why are you following _me_? Wouldn't it make more sense to follow your daughter?"

Iolaus looked embarrassed. "I tried. I hate to admit it, Herc, but I've got no chance of finding her. I taught Leipe everything I know...all those old hunters tricks. She's better at it than I am!"

Hercules began to laugh. "You taught your own daughter to outsmart you!"

Iolaus cringed under his friend's amusement. "Yeah, alright. Don't rub it in. I'm worried for her, Hercules."

The laughing stopped. "And you're right to be. OK, Iolaus, we'll find her." Hercules glanced around the clearing. "I've covered a lot of ground today. She's on foot?"

Iolaus nodded. "As far as I know."

"Well, if she was hiding her trail she couldn't have been travelling very fast. She's not likely to be nearby, is she?"

Iolaus didn't know. "If it were anyone else I'd say that makes sense, but honestly, you never know with Leipe. She's full of tricks."

"Alright, I'll take a look around. You wait here."

Hercules was gone for a long time. Iolaus waited impatiently, helping himself to some of Hercules' fish, listening intently for any sound that would signal his friend's return. Eventually Hercules came back - alone.

"There's no sign of anyone, Iolaus," he reported. Hercules reached for his supper, by now somewhat overdone. "Well, this is just like old times," he commented, looking mournfully at his burnt fish. "Iolaus, are you certain Leipephile would be coming after me?"

Iolaus nodded. "The more I think about it, the more I'm sure Gabrielle is right. It's just like her."

"You'd better head home in the morning. I'll travel on a bit more slowly. If she catches up with me, I'll send her home."

"Not a chance," Iolaus insisted.

"Iolaus, you can't come with me."

"I'm not going home without Leipephile. Gabrielle would kill me."

"Iolaus..."

Iolaus set his jaw stubbornly. "I know what you're thinking," he told his friend. "Herc, I _know_ I'm an old man, not a warrior. I won't lie to you: I'd give almost anything to get the old days back again. Just one day...best friends back to back...but that's _not_ what this is about. Leipephile is my daughter! What would you have done if it was Ilea?"

Hercules smiled to himself at the image of his own sweet daughter rushing off to be a warrior. "I don't think..."

"Hercules, you told me you think Ares is behind this war. Leipephile is Xena's protégé."

That stopped him. Hercules had seen Leipephile's potential himself when he fought her. The thought of what Ares might make in her, if he found her while her mind was still young enough for him to mould to his worship... A single image rose from his memory: Xena, a cruel smile playing about her mouth as two best friends she'd successfully turned against each other fought in front of her army.

He couldn't argue in the face of that.

So Iolaus accompanied Hercules on his journey.

***

A thick plume of black smoke was rising in the distance. Not a good sign. It was a sight both men found all too familiar, and it was with wary reluctance that Hercules travelled toward what was left of the village, to see if he could do anything to help the survivors.

They found no survivors.

The signs of battle in the village were all too familiar to them both. The tracks of a dozen or more horses; houses broken and burning; bodies of the men who had tried to defend their homes. Everyone who had lived there had either been killed or driven away. All of it was the unmistakable spoor of a foraging army.

"I hoped I'd never see this again," Iolaus said, his eyes surveying the wreckage.

"I know." Hercules bent down and picked up a scrap of cloth. It was a red band that had held some sort of design before it was torn away. Hercules turned the cloth over in his hands. "This looks like Darius' mark," he said aloud.

"You sound confused."

"I am. The last time I crossed paths with Darius was in Thessalonia. What would he be doing this far south?"

"You sure it's the same mark?"

Hercules shrugged, putting the red cloth away in his pack. "Maybe not. The badge has been torn. Come on, Iolaus. There's nothing we can do here. We'd better stay off the roads, though."

Iolaus agreed. He might be carrying weapons, but he wasn't keen to try his rusty skills against a warlord's army. Although, after what they had seen, he suspected Hercules would be.

They travelled on more slowly, parallel to the road but not near it. Hercules was silent and grim as they left that burning village behind them; his friend's mood was very familiar to Iolaus and, as he had done so many times before, he kept talking, reminding Hercules of their earliest adventures, and of happier days.

A shrill cry reached them, echoing through the woodland. Not a scream: a battle cry Iolaus knew well. "Leipephile," he said, an edge of panic already in his voice.

"I guessed." Hercules threw the words back over his shoulder: he was already running toward the sound.

***

There were four of them. Leipephile's whirling staff held them off, but it wouldn't work for long. They were armed with swords.

When she saw Hercules appear at the edge of the trees, she had never been so pleased to see anyone.

He called out to attract their attention. "Hey! Fellas! I don't think the lady wants company."

Two of them broke off and attacked Hercules. Leipephile didn't have time to admire the demi-god in action: her own brief moment of distraction allowed another of the men to duck under her guard. Pain exploded as he kicked her in the side. With an effort, she stayed on her feet, bringing her staff to bear. Too late: a hand gripped her throat and she felt the sharp touch of steel at her neck.

Then the knife fell from the man's hand.

Unexpectedly free, Leipephile turned and saw her father there with a bow, his arrow deep in the body of the man who'd grabbed her.

"Leipephile!"

She heard Hercules' shouted warning and whirled, automatically striking out with her weapon. The tip of the staff cracked her attacker squarely at the side of his neck, and he went down. She gripped the staff, ready for another attack. Hercules and her father were the only ones left standing.

Leipephile lowered the staff to the ground, suddenly, overwhelmingly tired. The enormity of what had just happened came crashing in. She could have been killed. And she had... Oh, gods. Leipephile looked down at the body of a man lying at her feet. His neck was broken. She stared.

Hercules' hand warm upon her arm made her look up. She met his compassionate gaze blankly. "First time?" he surmised.

Leipephile nodded. The smell of blood reached her nose, and she choked on it. She fell weakly to her knees, her stomach violently rejecting her breakfast.

"Herc, we'd better not hang around here." Iolaus was looking nervously down the road. He wasn't ignoring Leipephile, but he couldn't afford to help her this time. His daughter wanted to be a warrior. Her desire had brought her to this moment. How she dealt with it - with her own first kill, and with having seen him kill for her - would determine a great deal of her future. With an effort, Iolaus made himself seem uninterested.

Which left it to Hercules, who knew exactly what his friend was trying to do. "Are you up to it?" he asked Leipephile kindly.

Leipephile stared up at him for a moment, then she pulled herself together. "I'm ready," she said firmly.

Hercules knelt beside the man she had killed. He wore a red band of cloth at his right shoulder. Hercules ripped it from the body, stood up, and led them away from the scene.

***

Minutes later they were running.

Hercules would normally have stood and fought, but with two others to protect he had to find another way. Until he thought of one, _run_ would have to do. He glanced back over his shoulder...they were outrunning pursuit, but it wouldn't make a difference. That damn horse left a trail any fool could follow.

"The trees," Leipephile gasped, beside him.

Hercules glanced back again. "Good idea." He stopped running, pulling on the reins of Iolaus' horse to slow that, too. Iolaus jumped down; Hercules lifted his friend into the branches above them. Leipephile followed: she needed no help. Hercules slapped the horse hard on its rump, sending it off at a gallop, hopefully to distract their pursuers. Then he started to climb himself.

They watched tensely from above as Darius' men ran beneath the tree, following the horse's trail. Their clumsy ruse appeared to have worked.

***

"You were right," Leipephile admitted.

"Right about what?" Hercules asked, though he knew what she meant.

"Having a skill isn't the same as using it," she said. Her eyes were deep violet in the firelight. "I always knew that, of course. How could I not, growing up with mother's stories and yours." She smiled wanly at Iolaus. "But I thought I could do it."

"And now?" Iolaus asked her.

"What?"

Hercules answered her question gently. "Iolaus is asking if you could do it again. It's an important question, Leipephile. You wanted to be a warrior. How do you feel now you've had a taste?"

"I..." she hesitated. "He would have killed me."

"Yes. Or worse," Hercules agreed. He silenced Iolaus with a gesture behind Leipephile's back.

"Then I wasn't wrong to kill him."

"What do _you_ think?"

She raised her chin, and both men saw something of defiance in her eyes. "I think I could do it again. But...I'm not sure I want to." She met Hercules' gaze firmly.

He said, "Iolaus and Gabrielle did a good job." His eyes flickered to look at his friend, then back to her. "You have a lot to learn, kid. But I have a feeling...in eight or ten years I'll be proud to have you at my side." He saw her perk up and added quickly, "That's not a promise. I want you to grow up. Learn what you can from Gabrielle, especially after today. Then, if you still want to see the world..."

"Are you still going to make me go home?" Leipephile asked him.

Hercules looked at Iolaus. "I should," he said.

Iolaus frowned. "I have a feeling it's too late for that."

"I hate to say it, but you're right. We're through the lines of Darius' army now...and Mycenae's a lot closer than your home. You'd both be safer right now if you come with me the rest of the way."

Leipephile smiled widely. "I can live with that."

***

Mycenae was a fortified city. The walls were three feet thick, and among the highest in Greece. The gates, too, looked pretty solid, twelve feet high. Above the gates a brightly coloured banner hung from the parapet. Iolaus looked up at the banner shining in the noon sun...and did a double take.

"Hercules..."

Hercules looked around, and followed Iolaus' gaze. "Oh. Didn't I mention that?" he asked, falsely innocent.

Iolaus wasn't amused. "You knew!" he accused. "You knew and you didn't tell me."

"I didn't think you'd be with me this far. Anyway, I told you I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't my brother's last request. You just didn't ask why." Hercules started to walk toward the city gates. "Iolaus," he said over his shoulder, "can we argue about this later? Come on."

Iolaus sighed heavily and started after Hercules.

Leipephile caught her father's arm. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Iolaus turned back to her briefly. "I'm disappointed in you, Leipe. You think you're ready to travel with him?"

"Yes!" she said defiantly.

"Then you ought to recognise the sign of Hera when you see it. Look at that banner. He's walking straight into a city controlled by the queen of the gods."

***

Hercules didn't give his name to the guards that let them into the city. He simply told them he was the brother of King Iphicles. He didn't really want word getting out that Hercules was in Mycenae. But his deliberate evasion amused Iolaus no end.

"Last time I was here," Hercules explained to them, "I got Hera's own welcome." And that was all he would say on the subject.

They walked through the market looking for an inn. There was a tension in the air that told him the city knew war was coming. The prices in the market were high, and the goods on sale inferior. Men wore weapons on display. People weren't gossiping in the streets, just occasionally exchanging a few words and hurrying on. There were very few children.

Through a crowd of people, Hercules heard the laughter of a child: it attracted his attention for a second and he glanced over. A woman was lifting the child in her arms and her face caught his eye. Hercules stopped and stared for a moment, but whoever she was, she was gone. He shrugged, dismissing the sudden flash of a familiar face, and walked on.

But as they entered the inn nearest the market square he saw her again - or thought he saw her - just a quick view of a face he recognised before she was lost from sight again. He frowned. What would she be doing here? He half-turned, as if to follow her before he thought the better of it.

"Herc? What is it?" Iolaus asked.

He was frowning. "Nothing. I just thought I saw someone I know, that's all."

"Mortal or immortal?" Iolaus challenged.

Hercules grinned at him, letting that be his answer. They found themselves a table at the inn, and ordered some food. Then Hercules stood up to leave. "I can't relax until I've found Ganeda," he told them. "Try and stay out of trouble."

Iolaus winked at him. "You, too. We'll be waiting here."

***

Leipephile came back to the table with three mugs of mead. She watched Hercules as he left the inn. "He's a great man," she said softly.

Iolaus nodded. "Yes, he is."

"What warrior wouldn't want to be immortal," his daughter went on, sampling the mead gingerly.

Iolaus turned his head and stared at her. "Immortal, is he?" He sighed, looking back to the door through which Hercules had left. "You don't know him so well, Leipe. Every time he loses someone, he dies a little more. Jason, his mother, now Iphicles. Hercules isn't the same man I grew up with."

Leipephile frowned at her father's uncharacteristically sombre mood. "I just meant..."

Iolaus forced a smile. "I know what you meant. At your age, everyone thinks they're immortal. And we all learn different, sooner or later."

***

Ganeda was a king's daughter, so the logical place to start looking would be the King's palace. It had been several years since Hercules had dealt with Mycenae's king...and their dealings had not been exactly cordial, though they had parted - if not as friends - at least not as enemies. He wasn't certain of that, however, and he was prepared for trouble as he walked quickly through the city streets.

That sixth sense that had saved his life so many times warned him again. Hercules spun round, a hand out to catch the arrow speeding toward him. His fist closed on the shaft...and the arrow transformed. He was holding a long-stemmed flower, a narcissus. Looking beyond it, not sure whether to be angry or amused, he saw the laughing face he now expected.

Hercules couldn't suppress his smile as he strolled over to where the young woman - she had the appearance of a woman of about eighteen - leaned against a wall, still giggling. She wore green and gold, with a thick mane of auburn hair tumbling down her back. Her green eyes and pointed chin gave her a pixyish look, something she deliberately exploited with her harmless practical jokes and her ever-ready laughter.

With an exaggeratedly gallant gesture, Hercules presented the flower in his hand to her. "Yours, I believe," he said dryly. "Little sister, someday your games are going to get me killed."

Her merry laughter trailed off. "If I thought I could kill you, Hercules, I wouldn't play," she said impudently. She took his big hand in her tiny one and walked beside him, leading him through the city.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Hebe?" Hercules sighed inwardly, going along with her. His young half-sister, her smiles and laughter more dangerous weapons than his fabled strength, seemed able to disarm him, no matter how hard he tried to resist her charms.

"Looking for you."

"For me? Why?"

"You are needed. To help these people." Hebe's gesture encompassed the whole city.

Was she serious? "Hebe, you overestimate me. I've stopped wars before, sure, but nothing like this." He frowned at her serious expression. "What has King Eurystheus done to provoke this anyway?" He saw her triumph in her eyes as he asked the question, and knew he was on the edge of agreeing to help...again.

The young goddess seemed reluctant to answer. She bit her lip a little before she admitted, "That's the problem. It's not Eurystheus' fault that Mycenae is the battleground. This is a war between the gods."

Hercules threw up his hands. "Then there _really_ is nothing I can do. I'm pleased that you care, little sister, but I can't get involved. Why don't you take it up with Zeus?"

"Hear me out, Hercules," she begged. Hebe was still leading him through the streets; to where, he didn't know. "Ares has three armies marching on this city. Hercules, you know what his warlords can do. You know how Ares makes war. If the gods weren't interfering, it would be a slaughter. But whichever way you look at it, Mycenae is in a lot of trouble." Hebe's walk slowed and she looked up at him nervously.

"Sure," he agreed. "The gods start fighting and not one of them cares how many mortals get caught in their crossfire. I remember what Troy used to be, Hebe. You don't have to tell me." His voice was bitter.

She was silent, watching him, waiting for him to see where they were.

Hercules frowned. "Hebe, I came here to find Ganeda. That's what I have to do. If I start battling Ares now..." Why was she looking past him? "I'm sorry." Hercules glanced behind him, following her gaze. And did a double take when he saw where she had brought him. "Hebe. Don't even think about it."

"She just wants to talk to you, Hercules..."

"No way." He began to walk back the way they had come. "I can't believe you even thought..." he started angrily.

"_I_ didn't! I'm doing as I was told, that's all." Hebe followed him, grabbing at his arm to slow him down. "This is the only chance you're going to get, Hercules. Talk to her. Hear what she has to say. No one can force you to do what she wants. Hercules, please."

He had turned back to her, his face a mask of anger and hurt. He reached out and took her shoulders in his hands, not roughly, but firmly. "I can't, Hebe. I thought you of all people would understand why."

Hebe stopped. The young goddess drew her dignity around her like a cloak, stepping back from him slightly. "That," she said softly, "is why you must."

Hercules looked at her for a long moment. Then he stalked away from her...up the steps and into Hera's temple.

***

Hera's temples were something Hercules generally avoided. The steps led him up to double doors, which stood open. The spicy scent of incense and charcoal greeted him as he walked into the dimly-lit building. The first thing he saw was the carved peacock below her altar...how many of those had he smashed in his life? Above the altar towered a statue of the goddess, the stern features illuminated by the altar's perpetual flame. There was no sign of priests, or temple guards.

From a shadowed alcove behind the statue, a woman came toward him. She wore a long gown of blue and green, which concealed her entire body while clinging to her curves enticingly. She wore a wide collar of gold; her long red-brown hair coiled on top of her head, held in a jewelled net.

She walked, almost gliding, toward him, her eyes never leaving his. And it was the eyes he recognised: dark eyes, the blue-green of peacock feathers in their depths. Hercules had seen those eyes in the heavens so many times; he had seen Hera behind the eyes of Hippolyta, the Amazon Queen he had loved and lost to her spite; but he had never seen Hera, herself, face to face. She always worked indirectly, through others. This time, she was really here.

And the desire to smash his fist into that hateful, beautiful face was almost overwhelming. With great effort, he controlled his hate. "Hera," he said, allowing no emotion at all into his voice.

She inclined her head in acknowledgement, but didn't speak. She seemed to be waiting for something.

He spoke again. "Hebe said you wanted to talk. Consider it a favour to her that I'm here at all. I'm not in a mood for small talk, Hera. What is it you want?" She was less than two feet away from him. She was almost his height: their eyes were level. He could reach out now...

And she spoke. "I want you to stay and save my city." Her voice reminded him uncomfortably of Xena's: low pitched and throaty.

He waited the space of three heartbeats. "Go to Hades," he spat and began to walk away.

His path was blocked by an invisible wall. He turned back to her, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. "Oh, that's a great way to get my co-operation, Hera."

"Hercules," she said, her voice as sweet and smooth as honey. "Champion of the weak, defender of the innocent. Is this how you answer a call for help?"

_Champion_... Hera had called him that once before, when he fought her in the Amazons' forest minutes before she murdered a man and destroyed the woman he loved. Hercules' blue eyes narrowed. "You are neither weak nor innocent, and you don't need my help."

"These people do."

"Go to Hades," he retorted. "I don't know what kind of game you and my no-good brother are playing, but leave me out of it."

"I cannot leave you out of it, and war is no game." Those peacock eyes flashed in anger. Hercules braced himself for the inevitable attack, but it never came. Instead she was visibly struggling to control her fury. Eventually, she said to him, "If Ares wins, there will be a slaughter such as this world has never seen. Whatever you think of me, Hercules, I don't like needless deaths."

"Needless deaths?" He repeated her words incredulously. He couldn't believe she'd said that. And he couldn't believe he'd actually started to listen to her. This was the murdering witch who'd killed his wife and children. "Needless deaths," he said again. "What of the sacrifices you enjoy so much? Aren't those needless deaths?" All the anger and bitterness he had tried so hard to hold back erupted, threatening to choke him. He could hold back no longer.

It was with words, not fists, that he attacked.

"You want to know about needless deaths? Hippolyta: I carried what was left of her body back from the rocks beneath the waterfall. Pithus: he had a son you orphaned just because he was brave enough to stand up to you. Nessus: he was a good man until you twisted his soul." The list didn't end there. Hercules kept going; all the people he had known in his life who had lost their lives to Hera.

The goddess did not interrupt him, or try to defend herself. She waited, listening to his rage, her stance regal, those startling eyes unreadable.

"Is that enough?" he challenged her finally. "Maybe it's not. Those people weren't real to you, were they? Just names. Mortals. Playthings. How about a name you will recognise? Aeson. Klonus. Ilea." His children. "Deianeira." His beautiful wife. He stopped speaking, the anger, for the moment, spent. He knew she'd got the message.

Hera moved toward him and lifted her proud face to his, close enough for him to touch her. "Would you have me bring them back?" she hissed. "If that's the price of your help, I will do it."

He froze. It was over twenty years since the terrible night when he'd lost his family. And in more than twenty years he had never managed to conquer the pain of their loss. To have them back again... But this was _Hera_ talking.

"That's impossible, and we both know it," he told her, and each word was a poisoned blade in his soul. "Even you are subject to the Fates, Hera. They would never tolerate such a disruption in their threads." Only knowing how much Hera would enjoy his pain stopped him from showing it.

"That is true," she confessed mildly. She looked down; if he hadn't known better he would have said she looked ashamed. "Nevertheless, I will pay any price you name."

He almost marched out of the temple in that moment. Then his pain and anger dissolved as a disturbing thought occurred. Cursing himself for a fool, he asked the question:

"Hera, why? What has Ares done that would make you so desperate?"

A moment's silence, and she answered. "It's what he _will_ do. Ares wants the world, and he wants it his way."

"And I suppose it's purely out of goodness and compassion that you want to stop him," he burst out sarcastically.

"I already have the world, Hercules," she said silkily. "I'm the Queen of the Gods."

"Then you don't need me." He turned away, determined to leave this time if he had to smash her temple into rubble to do so.

She appeared in his path. "What happened to Troy will happen to all of Greece. Mycenae is just the beginning, chosen as the battleground because I opposed my son. The coming battle will be decisive: if Ares can be defeated here, he loses forever. Zeus determined the rules for this war. I have one chance: you."

"Hera," he said, exasperated, "one more warrior won't turn back an army led by Ares." He waited for her to argue, but she said nothing. Clearly, she was holding back some information...perhaps she planned to tell him the truth only after he was committed.

There was nothing left to say, no more arguments. He had to make a decision. But there was no decision for him to make, really. Or rather, his choice had been made on the night Deianeira died.

"You should have left my family alone," he said flatly. Finally.

She met his hate-filled gaze regally. Almost regretfully, she said, "Then I have beaten you, and the world has lost. An empty victory, Hercules." Hera vanished.

His mouth set in a grim line, Hercules stalked out of her temple.


	3. Deal With The Devil

Walking into the palace of the king felt like walking into a den of lions. Not that Hercules couldn't handle a lion or two. He didn't bother to conceal who he was...after his last visit to this building, it seemed likely he would be recognised in any case. Which made it just a little surprising that he was admitted so quickly to see the king.

The throne room had changed little. High, vaulted ceiling, walls lined with displayed weapons that gleamed in the light of many torches. And an altar to Hera on prominent display. Hercules barely glanced at it, walking straight down the centre of the room to stand before the king's throne.

King Eurystheus rose from his throne as Hercules approached and met him partway. Hercules was grateful for the gesture of welcome...they could at least talk as friends. "I've come from Corinth," he explained. "My brother asked me to bring Ganeda home."

"I guessed as much. Ganeda will be here soon." Eurystheus led him to a seat. "How did you get here, Hercules? With an army marching on this city very few can get through."

Hercules said nothing, letting a look be his reply.

"Well, I don't suppose an army could stop you..."

"Yours didn't."

"True, true. If you came through that army...can you tell me who I'm dealing with?"

Hercules read fear in the king's eyes. The man didn't know. "I came past the army of a Thessalonian warlord called Darius. But, my king, _he_ is not your problem. Darius rides at Ares' orders." Hercules had tried to speak quietly, but his words carried, setting off a murmuring among the people gathered in the throne room.

"Ares...? But what have I done to offend the gods?"

"You're asking _me_?" Hercules glanced over to Hera's altar, illustrating the point in a way he knew Eurystheus would understand. "As far as I can tell, you've done nothing. It's Hera who's offended him. You're just caught in the middle."

"Then we're doomed."

This king was an old man, and at heart he was a good man...despite the history between them Hercules didn't feel he deserved this. He waited, knowing the request for help was coming. And knowing that he was going to refuse. When the king asked, Hercules answered almost at once.

"You're the third person today who's asked me that. King Eurystheus, the last time I was in Mycenae..." he held up a hand, cutting off the man's interruption. "Yeah, I know, you were just being Hera's devoted servant. And, the gods know, I'm no friend to Ares, but do you really expect me to fight under Hera's banner?"

"I need help for my people, Hercules. You have the reputation of helping those in need." The king spoke with quiet dignity.

"I can help you one way. There's still time for you to mobilise properly. Get the women and children out of the city. Tiryns is only about a day's journey and should be safe. I can..." Hercules turned his head as the woman he had been waiting for entered the throne room.

Ganeda was a young woman, and every inch a princess. She had a charisma that was more than beauty...when she entered the room, everyone noticed. She saw Hercules and made straight for him, not hurrying.

He stood to greet her. "Ganeda. You've done some growing up since I saw you last."

She didn't respond to his humour. "There's only one reason for you to be here." Her words were blunt, but her voice shook a little as she spoke. "My father...is he dead?"

He reached for her hands. "I'm afraid he is. I'm sorry, Ganeda."

She nodded slowly; only Hercules could see her struggle to hold back tears. "Then I must return home."

"That's why I'm here. What kept you here so long, anyway? You should have been back in Corinth months ago."

"I know. My business here is done. Only..." Ganeda glanced past Hercules, and he sighed. "Don't tell me it's a man?"

She nodded slowly. "I want you to meet Elrion. Then you can tell my brother what a wonderful husband he'll make."

***

"Me?" Leipephile repeated, her tone disbelieving. It had been dark by the time Hercules had reached the inn with his niece. The first thing he had done was pay for her to have a room, the second was to make this request of Leipephile.

Hercules felt he deserved points or something for having managed to surprise her. "Is this the same woman who was so desperate to prove herself she ran away from home?" he teased. "Listen, Leipephile," he added quietly, "Ganeda has just lost her father: she doesn't really want company right now. But she's also a princess and shouldn't be in a place like this without a proper guard. I know you can do that. Look after her for me while I get some rest, and while I talk with your father."

"Of course," Leipephile agreed instantly.

Hercules watched them go with some relief. He hoped Leipephile didn't think he was just trying to get her out of the way...he was beginning to respect her as the Amazon she tried to be, and he had told her the truth. She wouldn't be so eager to fight without cause after the incident on the road, and he trusted her to raise an alarm if there was any trouble.

He joined Iolaus at a table near the back of the inn. It had been a _long_ day: Hebe, Hera...too much to take in all at once. He would be glad to get out of this city. Hercules took a long drink of the tankard Iolaus handed him, and closed his eyes, trying to relax for the first time that day.

"Herc, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

He looked up, frowning. He never had been able to fool Iolaus. He explained reluctantly, "While I was looking for Ganeda, I had a run-in with Hera."

Iolaus, instantly twice as worried, looked Hercules up and down. "You seem unharmed."

He smiled weakly. "I'm fine. It wasn't that kind of encounter."

"What other kind is there between you two?"

"She asked for my help," Hercules said, his voice expressionless. He was well aware of the impact of his words.

Iolaus blinked. "Run that by me again?"

"She asked for my help," Hercules repeated.

"What did you tell her?"

Hercules snapped, "I told her to go to Hades, what do you think!" He slammed his tankard down on the table with a loud crack. "Only...now I'm wondering if I did the right thing." And with that confession, he rose abruptly and walked out of the inn.

After a moment, Iolaus followed him. Hercules climbed up the steps to the top parapet of the city walls. It was a chilly night; the breeze in that exposed spot made it even colder. Iolaus found his friend leaning against the wall, staring into space.

"Herc...no one will blame you for not trusting her," Iolaus said softly.

"Except me," he insisted. "If it turns out she told me the truth."

"I don't get it. Whatever she wants, she's got to be looking out for herself, hasn't she? I mean, Hera doesn't exactly care about people."

Hercules silently met his friend's eyes. "You said it, Iolaus," he told him eventually. "She's looking after her own interests. But they include this city...and she's going up against Ares. What if...what if I don't help her, and because I didn't, Ares wins? He'd be worse than Hera, wouldn't he?"

Iolaus had never seen Hercules so troubled, so uncertain. Herc _always_ knew what was the right thing to do. "What difference can you make?" he asked tentatively. "I mean, there's a huge army out there. How can one more person...?"

"I think I can answer that."

Both men heard the voice, and moments later the slight form of Hebe materialised in front of them.

"Hebe," Hercules greeted her. "You got me into this. What do you know about it?"

The young goddess frowned slightly. "Not enough. And I have to be quick - I'm missing a great party at Cupid's place. What I can do is tell you the rules of this war."

"I'm listening."

"Ares wants power on earth. Hera tried to stop him, so he picked Mycenae to attack first. Zeus stepped in to prevent them fighting directly...you know the sort of destruction that could cause."

"I know."

"Zeus decreed that they can only use what resources they have on the day of the battle. And it has to be decided in one day: no ten-year sieges. Ares has his armies. Because Hera's temple is here, she can use most of her power...but that's a stalemate. Ares has something else. Some secret. Hera believes it will be enough to tip the balance in his favour. But..."

Suddenly it became clear. "Because I'm in Mycenae," Hercules concluded, "I count as something Hera can use. That's why Ares was trying to stop me getting here."

Hebe nodded. "You got it, big brother. The trouble is, that unless you fight _for Hera_, it won't count. Even if you help them win, they'll just have to do it all over again."

"That's insane!" Iolaus burst out.

"The gods aren't noted for sanity, Iolaus." Hercules started pacing. "Hebe...I just can't do it. Look, I promised Iphicles I'd get Ganeda safely back to Corinth. That's what I came here to do. That's what I have to do. I cannot work for Hera."

The words sounded decisive. But Iolaus, who knew Hercules so well, heard the doubt in his voice, even then.

Hercules was staring out into the darkness beyond the city walls. There was no moon that night; it was impossible to see the surrounding countryside. Hercules, though, seemed to be seeing something. His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer to the parapet, looking intently into the darkness.

"Damn you, Ares," he muttered.

"What's the matter?" Iolaus asked quickly.

"Look."

Iolaus looked where Hercules indicated. He saw nothing. Then a flickering light. Then another. Campfires. "It's too late to leave, isn't it?" he realised.

Hercules expression was grim. "I don't know how Ares has done it. Yes, it's too late. If there's going to be a battle, we're trapped here now. Until it's over."

***

Memory refused to let him be.

He had come home, happy, relaxed, looking forward to spending the night in Deianeira's arms. In front of his eyes, she had died, consumed by the fireball of Hera's hatred and jealousy.

Another memory: Xena telling him about Ares' attempts to win her back. "He said I was fighting for a better world. To conquer it, and then to rule it. It's an attractive prospect..."

Talking with Hebe on the road to the temple at Sparta...the single incident Hercules had left out when he told Gabrielle the story: He had remarked that he'd expected the chalice to be another of Hera's games...

"You don't think much of her, do you, Hercules?" Hebe had sounded surprised.

"Do you blame me?"

She looked thoughtful. "I don't know. Hera has done some terrible things to you...but she made you what you are. Isn't that something to be grateful for?"

"Grateful!" he burst out, half angry, half amazed. "Hebe, I was just a baby the first time she tried to kill me. And she hasn't stopped trying since. She murdered my family..."

"I know." Hebe reached out and covered his hands with her own. "I'm not trying to defend that. But have you ever tried to see it from her point of view? It's not just that Zeus was unfaithful to her - he's done that thousands of times. You set yourself against Hera from the day you were born." Gently, Hebe had reminded him of what Hera would see as his crimes against her...it was true, even before Deianeira, he hadn't always waited for her to strike first.

Another memory: Aegina, the slave he rescued from Hera's temple after Deianeira and the kids died: "Worry about this obsession you have with getting revenge on Hera...I think you ought to do something that honours their memory..."

Iolaus, dying at the hands of Hera's newest Enforcer, his last breath used to warn his best friend.

The circle of fire in which Hera had placed the eternal torch of Prometheus. Zeus tried so hard to stop him, but Zeus didn't understand...even though it would mean his own death, Hercules had to save that torch.

And Xena's voice again, "Someone taught me that helping people is the only reason to be on this earth."

That strange gateway to another world, and his brief glimpse of a man who was himself, but wasn't...the one Iolaus called "the sovereign": a man so obsessed with power he planned to slaughter a world...

Hera's last words to him in her temple: "I have beaten you... An empty victory, Hercules."

A final memory, Iolaus as they travelled to Mycenae: "I'd give almost anything to get the old days back again. Just one day...best friends back to back..."

***

"Hercules? Are you OK?"

His mind back in the present, Hercules turned wearily to his friend. "What should I do, Iolaus? What would you do?"

Iolaus shook his head. "I'm the wrong one to ask, Herc. I hate Hera nearly as much as you do." He paused, looking at his troubled friend, then a thought occurred, something that might show Hercules a way out of this dilemma. "I'll tell you what Gabrielle would say, though."

Hercules smiled. He knew exactly what peace-loving Gabrielle would say.

"She'd tell you to act with love, not with hate. And she'd tell you the same thing you'd be saying, if it wasn't Hera we were talking about: do what's best for the greater good."

_The greater good..._ Hercules took a deep breath, his options suddenly reduced to one. "If it was possible, would you do this with me?"

***

"Hera!"

The dark temple doors had opened to him before he even touched them, and he walked inside, his way lit only by her altar's perpetual flame. In darkness the temple felt threatening.

"Hera!" he called out a second time. He knew she was there before he saw her; Hera's presence was a tangible thing...she liked to show off her power. Hercules was glad for the silent presence of Hebe beside him.

The queen of the gods came into view, as she had before, from behind the altar.

"I'm here to tell you that I'll fight your war. Not for you. For the people of this city."

Hera raised her slim hands, steepled them together in front of her chest. "It won't work, Hercules. If you won't help _me_, this war could drag on for decades."

He already knew that. "Oh, I'll satisfy my father's rules. To the letter. I just want you to know the truth." He had thrown in the word "father" as a test; she ignored it. Now he was sure that she was truly in need of his help. "Hera, if I demand a price from you, and you pay it, that means I'm working for you as far as Zeus is concerned, doesn't it?"

She considered, then nodded: a slight tilt of her head. "I believe so. What do you want of me?"

He took a deep breath, still not certain he was doing the right thing. "Iolaus," he said.

A silence. He let it drag on.

"If I'm going into battle, I want Iolaus at my back. There's nothing Ares can do that we can't handle together."

"He's an old man," Hera said. Hercules heard suppressed laughter in her words.

"Sure. But you can change that, can't you? I'm asking you to give Iolaus back his youth and strength. For one day. That's my price. It's also what will win you this war, Hera."

***

Moments later he was leaning against one of the pillars outside the temple, holding a precious crystal vial in his hand. He couldn't turn back now. For most of his life he had been Hera's bitterest enemy. Now, for a time, at least, he was her servant.

Hebe's soft voice penetrated his whirling thoughts. "Will you ever forgive her, Hercules?"

"When the Styx dries up and Mount Olympus falls."

A silence. Then, "You did the right thing, though."

"I know. I just hope I've done the right thing by Iolaus."

The young goddess gently took the vial from his hand. "Isn't that why you asked me to wait for you?" She weighed it in her hands, and gave it back to him. "Hera hasn't cheated you, Hercules. That contains precisely what you asked for: one day of youth and strength." She winked. "Trust the goddess of youth to know."

How did she always bring a smile to his face? Hercules wondered. "I do trust you. But I trust Hera about as far as I could throw Mount Olympus."

Hebe grinned at him cheekily. "Coming from you, that's pretty far. Shall we try it when this is over?"

Despite himself, Hercules had to laugh at that. "You don't give up, do you?" Picking himself up, he began the walk back to the inn. "Hebe, I do need to ask a favour of you."

"Anything, brother."

"If anything happens, to Iolaus, or to me, will you make sure Ganeda and Leipephile both get safely home. I'm breaking a promise by staying here to fight."

"I'll do more than that. Hercules, I can't interfere in the battle, but I'll promise you this much. Both of them are under my protection. I'll make certain they're not harmed, and I will see them safely home."

"Thank you." Hercules took both her hands in his; a gesture of brotherly affection. Hebe stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Then, smiling, she vanished.

***

Strategically, the idea of joining battle was ludicrous. Even if every citizen of Mycenae were trained and armed, they were secure in a fortified city, facing an army whose sheer numbers would inevitably overwhelm them. They faced, not a single army, but many: Ares had mobilised his armies from all over Greece, bringing them together at Mycenae and the force that resulted was commanded by the God of War himself.

Mycenae could have withstood a siege. The public fountains were fed from springs too far underground for the opposing army to block or contaminate them. The city was rich in stored grain and other necessary foods. The fortifications would hold.

This war, however, was between gods, not men, and they had decreed there would be a battle this day. The mortals could do nothing, but submit.

Hercules rose before dawn, after a bare two hours sleep. It was many years since he'd fought as part of an army. His memories of the last time were not good ones. Hercules was a warrior; he enjoyed a good fight. But he did not like to kill. Only when necessary, and only when he knew his target deserved to die. Battle had no place for such scruples.

As he left Hera's temple the night before, she had said one last thing to him: "Men die in battle, Hercules. Try to remember not to blame me for that." He guessed she hadn't been able to resist that parting shot. Yet Hebe insisted Hera hadn't spoken in hatred. Then again, sweet, innocent Hebe would try to see good in evil itself.

What Hercules had agreed to do felt like a betrayal of all he was and all he had spent his life fighting for. It was much too late to change his mind. There was an army out there, waiting.

_An army._ That raised a long-buried fear. Ever since Xena had spoken to him about raising an army again...and then gone out and done so, he had worried that one day they would find themselves once again on opposite sides. Hercules knew Ares, knew he would never give up his battle to get Xena back on his team.

Calling on a lifetime's worth of training and experience, Hercules slowly and deliberately cleared his mind of the emotional baggage. "A man is stone." "Make a rock your weapon within." Hard, resolute, he walked out to face the day.

***

Iolaus woke with a start, the last remnants of an instantly forgotten nightmare pumping adrenaline through his veins. The first thing he saw was the crystal vial Hercules had given him late the previous night. Iolaus had hardly been able to believe what Hercules had done.

"You could have had anything in her power, and this is what you asked for?" he had said, utterly flabbergasted.

Hercules pressed the vial into his hand. "What should I have asked for? A pet hydra, maybe?" He had given instructions as to what Iolaus should do with the vial, then added, "Don't think you have to do this, Iolaus. You've been in battles before - you know how easy it is to get killed. And you have a wife and family to think of. Sleep on it, my friend. I'll see you in the morning, whatever you decide."

_Best friends, back-to-back. Heroes._ Why did those words make him think of dying?

It wasn't the years he had fought beside Hercules that Iolaus was remembering that dawn. It was Gabrielle. She told him stories to keep him alive as they waited, afraid, while Hercules and Xena pressed onward up Prometheus' mountain. They shared one soul, Gabrielle's story said: the story he later pretended he hadn't heard.

Gabrielle laughing when he proposed marriage to her: "I thought you'd never ask!" Her teenage crush on him had deepened into love when, for a second time, she nursed him through a serious injury. Gabrielle had really believed he would leave her behind again... Their joyful wedding day...Xena actually had tears in her eyes. Gabrielle had wept when Leipephile was born, remembering the first child she had borne...

Gabrielle, his wife, his beautiful bard. Gabrielle, who valued peace above all things.

Iolaus looked across the room to where his weapons: sword, bow and arrows, were laid out.

"Gabrielle," he said aloud, his voice quiet in the empty room. "My love. If there's anyone, in this world or the next who understands me better than Hercules, it's you. He brought me back from the dead...you gave me new life when I thought everything was gone. And if we truly share the same soul, on some level you have to hear me now.

"We're at war, Gabrielle. That endless cycle of death and pain and violent revenge is about to start again. The gods make war...we're caught in the middle. But for the first time, I think there's hope. That cycle...Hercules beat it in himself last night. He gave up his hate, turned away from his perfect chance at revenge, all for the greater good. I think it's the hardest thing he's ever done. Because of that, maybe, we have a chance now, a chance to end that cycle.

"I can't let Hercules down, not after what he's done. If it's the last thing I do, I have to keep faith with him. Please understand, Gabrielle. Forgive me. My love, my life.

"I will come home to you if I can."


	4. Journey's End

War was in her blood. Leipephile woke knowing there would be war that day. For that reason, she dressed with care, exchanging her usual tunic for Amazon battle dress: leather bodice and shoulder guards, metal gauntlets, knee-high warrior boots. No armour, though, the weight always slowed her down. A curved dagger slid into one of her boots, a second she wore openly at her waist. She wished for a chakram, like Xena's, she didn't quite have Xena's level of skill but it was a useful weapon. No sword...the knives would have to do. Her staff was her first, and best weapon. With that gripped firmly in her hand, she was ready.

Leipephile marched out of the inn...straight into Hercules.

He offered a friendly smile as he stepped away from her, his eyes taking in not merely her appearance, but her obvious intention. "Well...should I surrender now?"

"Probably." Her voice held a challenge. "You can't stop me, Hercules."

The smile vanished from his face. "If anything happens to you, Xena will take it out of my hide. And your mother will never forgive me if I let you fight, untried, in a battle."

"My mother is not here."

"Your father is." She heard Iolaus' voice and turned, her face a picture of defiance, ready to argue with him, too. When she saw him she stopped, whatever she had been about to say forgotten.

***

Youth and strength. Iolaus had witnessed the powers of the gods many times in his life. Rarely, however, had he experienced their powers directly. He didn't have a mirror, didn't need one to know he looked different. He could feel it. Whatever else might happen that day, he would be forever grateful for this one last taste of youth... For many men it would have made the regrets worse. Iolaus took it as what it was, a gift of necessity, knowing he would never again long for the impossible.

He had forgotten, however, what an impact Hercules' "gift" would have on his daughter. The first person he saw that morning was Hercules: Leipephile had her back to him. Hercules took in his appearance without comment, although Iolaus could see his friend's feelings were somewhat ambivalent. Leipephile's eyes widened when she saw him. She seemed about to speak, but no sound came out.

Iolaus used her brief silence to take her to one side. "Leipephile, Herc's right. This is no street brawl, it's war. You can't imagine what it will be like."

She was still staring. "Dad...what happened?"

"Herc made a deal for me with the gods." Iolaus frowned. "Quit distracting me young lady - we're talking about you."

"I know all of mother's stories," Leipephile told him. "And I know that however bad I expect it to be, it's going to be worse. But, Dad, I'll be no safer behind city walls."

"You will. We're going to win." But his voice held no conviction.

She heard the doubt. "Dad, you can't expect me to hide away when there are people out there...you are going to be out there...risking injury, even dying. I can fight. I must."

Iolaus looked deep into his daughter's eyes. By the gods, he was proud of her. She had his warrior's heart. "Promise me, that if you're hurt, even just a little, you'll pull out. You can be just as useful helping the wounded, you know."

Triumph in her eyes. "I promise."

***

Elrion, prince of Mycenae, was overjoyed to greet them when they joined Mycenae's small army. Leipephile, beside Hercules, heard some man make a disparaging comment about women who think they can fight. She rounded on the speaker, a dagger in her hand.

Before Hercules could act - and he was about to - Elrion called out, insisting that the man apologise to her. He walked toward them and bowed slightly to Leipephile. "Welcome, Amazon," he said to her. "I hope you will forgive the insult. I believe we should shed the blood of our enemies, not that of each other."

He was treating her as an experienced warrior. Leipephile's annoyance melted under the gesture, and she sheathed her dagger firmly. She answered, thanking him formally.

Hercules nodded with approval. "Well said, Prince Elrion. Do we fight at your orders?"

"I'm glad you reconsidered, Hercules." The young man did look very relieved. "I'm in command, yes, but I'm no general."

"Don't admit that. I'm sure you'll be fine."

"May I offer you a sword? And your Amazon friend?"

Leipephile's eyes widened when she saw the blade he offered. She accepted it nervously...she knew how to use a sword, but definitely preferred her staff. Iolaus helped her to buckle the sword belt into place, reassuring her with a few quiet words as he did so.

Hercules, too, accepted the loan of a weapon from the prince.

Shortly afterwards, the gates of the city were opened, and there was war.

***

Elrion was the first person Leipephile saw die.

Barely minutes into the battle, Leipephile watched, helpless, too far away to aid him, as Elrion was attacked by a mounted warrior. Elrion's first thrust struck the warrior's horse and it reared in pain, almost unseating its rider. Elrion followed with a feint, which was blocked, and a second thrust, which wasn't. But as he thrust he left his side exposed, and the warrior he fought gutted him as he died.

There was no time for her to think or to grieve. There was death everywhere she looked, her own whirling staff dealing some of it.

The one thing she had been unprepared for was the noise. Horses screaming, warriors yelling, warcries filling the air. The clashing of weapons. A man came at her with an axe. She blocked his strike with her staff, and leapt toward him. Her feet hit his chest and he went down. She drew her sword and without hesitation, thrust down. Again. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She screamed a warcry and went on fighting.

Leipephile could never have said how long she fought. It may have been minutes, it may have been days. Adrenaline wouldn't allow her to tire. She just kept going. Early in the battle, she tried to stay near her father and Hercules. That soon proved impossible. Leipephile allowed the tide of people to move her...there were no _people_, only comrades and enemies. One kind she protected, the other she killed. Time lost all meaning in the heat and blood and noise.

***

For a man who preferred not to kill, Hercules ended a lot of lives that day. From the beginning, he believed that they could not win. Whatever tricks the gods chose to play, it would be the numbers, in the end, that mattered. Hercules, worth at least a hundred men himself, sent as many of Ares' warriors to Tartarus as he could.

Blood stained his hands, his clothes, his face. None of it was his own.

Beside him, behind him, Iolaus fought as grimly as he, his swift-striking sword a deadly counterpoint to Hercules' brutal strength.

Hercules stayed close to Iolaus; it was second nature for the two men to protect each other. He fought his way through the melange of men and bodies, seeking the leaders of Ares' armies, killing where he could.

And at the back of Mycenae's army, Hercules sensed the strength and power of a goddess,. It was a subtle thing, that power, and new to him. To Hercules, Hera's power was most often like a hammerblow, or an axe. What he felt that day was, by comparison, a needle: a thing of art, not power, supporting them all and driving them on.

***

He fought by instinct. Despite the years, this came as naturally as walking.

Strike. Feint. Thrust. Kick. Block. Whirl. Kill. Duck. Strike.

When he and Leipephile were separated by the fighting, Iolaus knew a moment of pure fear. He allowed the fear to move him; it joined anger and will as his weapons. Then he put her out of his mind. He and Hercules. Back to back. All their lives they had fought this way...no one could stand against them. No one.

His whirling blade killed, and maimed, and killed again. They moved forward, two heroes whose names were already legend, slowly, inexorably into the lines of the opposing army.

And it seemed, impossibly, as if they might win.

The day was almost gone, the chariot of Helios low in the sky, and Iolaus saw the enemy begin to pull back. He heard the cheers of joy all around him. They thought they had won.

Iolaus, knowing as so many of them did not, that the gods were at work here, didn't think it was over, yet.

He waited, his sword still. Hercules was silent beside him. He allowed himself to hope. "Is it possible?" he asked Hercules. "Did we win?"

Then he heard a single voice raised in terror and despair. "By Hera's crown!"

Iolaus looked where a shaking hand pointed, up into the sky. Seconds passed before he realised what he was seeing. Then he turned to Hercules.

To see the demi-god begin to laugh.

***

"By Hera's crown!"

Hercules heard the same cry of despair that Iolaus heard. He looked, not into the sky but over his shoulder, to where, as he knew they would, the peacock eyes of Hera hovered above her city. Now he understood.

A dragon.

Hercules just couldn't stop the low chuckle that rose to his lips. After the heat and carnage of the battle, this was actually funny.

He had to hand it to Ares. It was an inspired idea: turning one of Hera's deadly pets against her. Where had he found that thing...Hades? Ares must have been so certain that Hercules would never agree to help Hera...this creature was his victory. Now Ares' overconfidence would defeat him.

Hercules looked around and met Iolaus' eyes. Amazingly, Leipephile was there beside them.

Someone said his name in hope and fear: "Hercules."

"I need a couple of spears. And a shield." Instantly he had both, as men around them fell back, giving him the space to manoeuvre. "Just like old times, my friend," Hercules said, his eyes now fixed on Ares' dragon, as it flew closer and closer to the city. "Are you ready for this, Iolaus?"

"Just like old times," Iolaus agreed tensely.

The dragon was virtually ignoring the people on the ground, flying straight for the city walls. That was no good: for Hercules to fight this thing, it had to attack him. Preferably on the ground.

Fire from the dragon's mouth cut a path through the army as the dragon got close. Hercules acted. He threw the first spear in a mighty cast, aiming for the dragon's wing, hoping to bring it down. The spear hit...and bounced off.

A second spear followed the first: the soft underbelly his target now. The dragon roared in pain, throwing more fire, as the spear hit home.

Success! The dragon turned away from the city, looking for its attacker. A third spear struck between its eyes, falling away having done little damage. But now the beast knew where Hercules stood.

Its beam of fire was tightly focussed this time, Hercules the prey. He crouched behind the shield, which buckled under the heat but did not break. As the fire-thrust ended, Hercules hurled the shield into the dragon's mouth. He avoided the next fire-thrust by rolling - just in time - out of the way.

In close to the dragon, now, he thrust upward with his last spear.

It pierced the scaly hide, but poorly. Hercules yanked the spear back. He couldn't afford to pull his punches with this thing.

"Iolaus! Can you distract it?" he yelled, not waiting for an answer, knowing his friend would try. An arrow whistled past his head: just like Iolaus to answer with action instead of words.

Hercules used the space Iolaus bought him to back off, and gathered his strength, using the spear to vault up onto the dragon's back. Landing on his feet, he fought to keep his balance as the dragon's wings rolled. Above the roaring of the dragon, he heard Leipephile's shrill warcry. So she was fighting with Iolaus.

Still struggling to keep his footing, Hercules advanced, forward of the wings now, the dragon's rough scales providing some purchase. There was a line of horns forming a crest from its head, all down its neck and merging into its back. He gripped the end of this crest, dragging his body up, straddling the creature's neck at the base.

Then he drew his sword from its sheath.

He hadn't used the sword in the battle: he didn't need it. It was a fine weapon, newly sharpened and bright, undamaged. Hercules spun the sword in his palm, got a grip with both hands, and thrust down with all his strength.

The dragon screeched.

He'd barely made a dent. Hercules reversed the sword, holding it like an axe, and tried again. Thrust down. The blade sliced through scale and flesh. And again.

The dragon tried to turn its head, but it couldn't throw fire at Hercules without burning itself.

Hercules kept striking, finding a rhythm...like hammering metal into shape in a smithy. Raise. Down. Raise. Down. Precise aim became more important than strength. He kept going. Until finally, he struck bone. He raised the sword one final time, putting all of the power for which he was so famous into that last blow. The dragon's final scream was cut short; its head falling to the ground with a satisfying thud.

For Hera.

A moment's silence. Then, over the cheers and jubilation of the Mycenae army, Hercules heard the voice of a goddess cry warning. He leapt down from the dragon's body, finding Iolaus and Leipephile waiting. He gathered them both in his arms and threw them to the ground, protecting his friends with his own body.

As the dragon's corpse exploded into white-hot flame. And was gone. Leaving only a wide swath of scorched earth where it had lain.

***

They picked themselves up off the ground.

"We did it, Herc!" Iolaus laughed exuberantly. He turned to see Hercules, his eyes shining with the relief of victory, a wide smile on his face, reaching for his hand. They each clasped the other's wrist, in friendship and congratulation. Leipephile, too, was laughing.

They did it. They had won.

They thought it was over. They were wrong.

It was only by chance that Iolaus saw the archer. Just a flicker of movement noticed out of the corner of his eye. They were standing on a battlefield, there were people all around. Yet that old hunters' instinct told Iolaus there was danger. He shouted warning: "Hercules!"

And Hercules turned, saw the arrow speeding toward him. As he had done so many times before, he reached up a hand to pluck the arrow from the air.

Into Iolaus' mind flashed a single image: a stag knowing it has reached the place where it will die, stops running and turns to the hunter, proud, magnificent, accepting. And Iolaus knew, an instant before it happened, that Hercules would miss.

Hercules' fist closed on empty air, the red-fletched arrow buried deep in his chest.

Hercules fell to his knees, driven down by pain and the force of the arrow's impact. He made no sound as he fell.

Iolaus was there, supporting his friend's body with his own. It would be alright, he was telling himself frantically. Hercules was the son of a god: he wouldn't - couldn't - die. But Hercules himself had never been sure of that.

And then he saw that his friend's eyes were closed. The demi-god's body was a dead weight in Iolaus' arms, the iron smell of blood filled the air. _No...no..._Iolaus' mind just kept repeating the words, over and over. _No. Oh, dear gods, no._

"Herc?" Iolaus shook him, desperately. "Hercules, come on. Hold on."

Leipephile was there, kneeling beside them, her own face blood-spattered and white with shock. "Dad...I think it's too late."

He ignored her. "Hercules, don't die. Please don't die."

The noise of the battlefield was suddenly silent, as if someone had frozen time. Iolaus looked up. Nothing seemed to have changed...there was just this silence, like a curtain cutting them off from everything else. He turned his attention back to Hercules.

"Let me try," a new voice said. An old man knelt beside him and Iolaus looked up again, into the eyes of the king of the gods.

Hercules' father.

Zeus placed a hand on his son's bloody chest. Iolaus watched, wild hope suddenly flaring in his heart. The arrow looked to be just below the heart...the wound might not be mortal.

Whatever Zeus was doing had some effect.

Hercules drew a single, painful breath. He opened his eyes. He saw his father there. "She...finally did it, father." His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

The old god shook his head slightly. "This is Ares' work," he said quietly.

"Herc," Iolaus said desperately, "you're not going to die. We can heal that - "

Hercules raised pain-filled eyes to his, cutting off Iolaus' words mid-sentence. "No point, my friend," he said roughly, each breath an effort. "I can feel...poison...the arrow..."

Iolaus had to force himself to look again at the arrow. Hercules was right: the shaft was dark-stained and slick. In his mind he cursed Ares with every foul curse he knew.

But it seemed all hope was not gone.

"Son, there is a way." Zeus spoke quietly, his eyes never leaving those of his son. The god raised a hand, and in it appeared a golden cup. Iolaus watched, his heart beating much too fast, as Zeus offered that cup to his son.

Hercules, moving with obvious difficulty, slowly pushed the cup away. Iolaus looked on, disbelieving, until Hercules' next forced words made it clear to him. "Are you offering healing? Or immortality?"

"I'm offering the only cure I know," Zeus told him, his own eyes shining with tears.

But it wouldn't matter. Iolaus knew, better than any man alive, the love that existed between Zeus and his son. Love and need, betrayal and aching regret...years and years of it. It wouldn't be enough. It was over.

"No," Hercules whispered. And then, more strongly, he repeated, "No, father. The only thing I've lived for..." He broke off, his face contorted in a sudden wave of pain.

He raised his eyes to meet Iolaus' gaze one more time. There was no need for words between them. Iolaus, his heart breaking, read Hercules' farewell in that look.

"Please, son," Zeus begged.

Hercules was becoming weaker with every moment. "Past time," he said, each word a separate breath. "If...you love me...let me..."

He never finished.

Iolaus wept. What else was there to do? What purpose everything they had done this day if it ended like this? Hercules wasn't supposed to die. They had lived with death all their lives, courted it, cheated it, like a beautiful, capricious lover. They had both known their lives could end at any time...a sword... an arrow...a thunderbolt. But not this way. A cowardly poisoned arrow on a battlefield Hercules should never have seen.

Iolaus felt a warm hand on his shoulder and turned to meet his daughter's gaze. Leipephile's eyes were full of tears. Iolaus placed his hand over hers, offering what comfort he could. Then he turned back and met the steady gaze of Zeus.

"You tried to make him immortal." Iolaus spoke flatly: it was neither a question, nor an accusation, merely a statement of fact.

"I did."

_"Why?"_

And, totally unexpectedly, the old god answered. "Because he is needed, more now than ever before. The gods are dying, Iolaus. This world we created...no longer needs us, and I can no longer hold Olympus together." He looked down at the face of his son. "Hercules' heart. That was the only thing left that could have saved us. Now it is too late." The old man stood up slowly, looking every one of his thousands of years old. The light and vitality was gone from him.

Iolaus understood only part of it. He understood that Zeus loved his son enough to let him die, and because of that, Zeus believed he had sacrificed...what? His crown? His immortality? His life?

_Hercules' heart..._ Iolaus knew that heart so well. He was speechless, his own grief choking him, as he watched Zeus turn away. From somewhere, he found the right words, found the strength to speak them:

"Hercules...he believed his sister shared some of his heart."

"Hebe?" Zeus looked back briefly. Blue eyes, so like those of Hercules, met Iolaus' steady gaze. "Well, maybe he's right. Maybe she does."

The next moment Zeus was gone: no flash of light, no fading out. He was simply gone. So was the body of his son.

***

Iolaus kept the secret.

In those first hours, he could not have said why. He simply knew, without knowing how he knew, that it was essential the secret be kept. That that this was one death that had to be concealed. And for as long as possible.

So no one, except himself and Leipephile, knew what had happened to Hercules. Eventually, through his own heartbreaking grief, Iolaus managed to think clearly enough to reason it out. Hercules had won Hera's war for them: his name would become the symbol of Ares' defeat. Mycenae had lost too many men that day. The people needed their symbol.

And there was another, more important reason.

Iolaus kept Hercules' promise for him: he found Ganeda after the battle and made sure she returned safely to Corinth. He and Leipephile made a poor escort for a princess, but their journey was remarkably uneventful...Leipephile was heard to remark, later, that the gods must have been watching over them.

Everywhere they passed on that journey, Iolaus asked for news of Xena. She was a hard woman to track down, but Iolaus had to try. Xena shouldn't hear this news from anyone else.

He shuddered to think of her reaction.

Eventually, Iolaus was forced to settle for leaving messages. In Amphipolis, and in every major city he could think of. Each message was the same, telling Xena to find Iolaus, urgently.

He knew the message would worry her. He hoped that would get her there faster.

Finally, he was able to return home. Only with Gabrielle could he give in to grief. In the arms of the only person who would understand him completely, he found words for sorrow and for anger. To Gabrielle he told the entire story.

"…It seems like such a waste, Gabrielle. It doesn't matter how many lives he saved. Hercules betrayed everything he was for that battle."

Gabrielle's eyes were luminous in the candlelight of their bedroom. "I think you're wrong, Iolaus. I'm sorry – I know you knew him better than I – but surely he _fulfilled_ what he was, he didn't betray it. To walk away from all those people…that would have been the betrayal."

Iolaus looked away. "You weren't there."

"That's true. Iolaus, if Hercules, after everything Hera has done to him, could let go of his hate long enough to help her…can't you?"

_That endless cycle of pain and hatred…Hercules beat it in himself last night. He… turned away from his perfect chance at revenge, for the greater good… Because of that, maybe, we have a chance now, a chance to end that cycle._

She was right, again. Iolaus held Gabrielle in his arms, his love for her overflowing. Thanks to her wisdom, her understanding, he would survive this.

Iolaus was glad he had told Gabrielle the whole truth. She would know how to share it.

***

Gabrielle held her audience spellbound. She didn't merely tell a story...she drew on her own past to bring the things she spoke of to life, from the deep friendship that was the beginning and the ending of the tale, to the horrors of war.

When she spoke of Hercules, he was not some distant, legendary hero, he was a man she knew, and loved. Through her words, her audience knew him, too: warm and loving, compassionate and strong.

Within her tale she wove threads of the many deeds of Hercules, slowly building up a picture of the man. She wanted them to know what had been lost.

She sang of Hercules...

Gabrielle sang the journey to Mycenae: a last pilgrimage for his mortal brother...she sang the hero's confrontation with the goddess who had been his bitterest enemy...his hatred overcome by his great heart...the battle... She sang of Ares' dragon, and Hercules risking his own life to defeat it...she sang the victory...and she sang the poisoned arrow of Ares' vengeance.

Gabrielle's blue eyes were shining with unshed tears as she reached the shocking climax of her tale. She knew she was offering a revelation: When she began, only she and Iolaus knew that Hercules was dead.

Her audience murmured: Gabrielle allowed them a space to absorb the news before she concluded.

"And thus passed from this world, Hercules, greatest of heroes. This world will never see his like again."

The telling had exhausted her. Lifting her eyes finally, Gabrielle saw a familiar silhouette in the tavern doorway. As she stared in silent shock, Xena turned and walked out of the tavern. Gabrielle caught her breath.

It seemed the story was not yet at an end.

***

Ares.

Time and again in her life it had come down to him. The darkly handsome, seductive God of War. When her home village was threatened he had given her strength...and then used her grief when Lyceus was killed to twist her heart and sword to his service. What a monster he had made in her! What an exquisite weapon.

Hercules had saved her.

She still had that monster, though, deep inside.

Ares murdered Hercules.

Not in battle, but in petty, cowardly revenge. He would pay for that, even though it cost her life.

The monster Ares created would be his undoing.

Xena rode seeking Ares. She rode for Justice. Beneath her, the steady rhythm of the horse's hooves was a heartbeat. A heart beating in grief and rage. A heart that would not be stilled.

Xena.


End file.
